Exist
by Jerrath92
Summary: Haymitch made promises to both of them knowing full well that he was lying to one of them, that he would have to betray one in the end. But to what extent will he keep those promises? Stand by and risk losing them both or volunteer for one and try to save the other? What does he really have to return to if they both die? Not a romance, M for lang, gore, and content. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1: Going Back

**Maybe it's just a short story with a few chapters to curb this appetite for a look inside Haymitch's head, maybe it'll be something longer. I don't know yet. Until about two hours ago I'd never considered writing a Hunger Games fic especially since The Walking Dead is more of my forte on this site, but I'll just see where this takes me. Haymitch is a bit of an unsung hero in my opinion and an underappreciated one too. Plus, I love Woody Harrelson. Thanks for reading and review if you like. **

"Welcome, welcome to the 75th annual Hunger Games. As always, ladies first."

One folded slip inside the glass bowl. Just one damn name and they all had to go through this humiliating display for it. She knew it was her name on the slip; who else's name could it possibly be? Insult to injury and what a subtly induced injury it was. He did not dare to glance sideways at her, but for the first in the nine years she had been happily announcing the names of tributes, Effie Trinket faltered before speaking into the microphone.

"The female tribute for District 12: Katniss Everdeen."

Now he looked, leaning ever so slightly forward so that they could make eye contact as Katniss took her spot on Effie's left, her face passive but he knew better. She had to be boiling inside and in danger of bursting with anger at the injustice of it all. Still, she turned her head in his direction as Effie spoke out.

"And now for the men…"

He bit the skin inside of his jaw and gave her a brief, almost nonexistent nod. Thinking back to it, he wished that he had died the first time in the arena rather than face this decision now. Was it worth it to live in this drunken form, watching these two young people face certain death once again? Had winning really paid off if it meant his mother, his brother, his lover, and now his two surrogate children had to die? He had promised the boy that he would do everything in his power to get her out alive the first time. He made the same promise the second time except this time she pleaded the same for the boy. What would he do? What could he do? If Effie called his name, there was no stopping the boy volunteering to enter the arena with her because no matter if she was indifferent to his affections, he sincerely loved her. But what if the boy's name came out of the bowl? Could he really bring himself to volunteer in the boy's place? Which promise was more important to keep?

"The male tribute for District 12…"

_Come on, just get it over with, woman._

"…is Peeta Mellark."

His body reacted before his mind had time to process the name. His arm blocked the boy from advancing towards Effie and the words spilled out of his mouth without him being in full awareness of speaking them.

"I volunteer as tribute."

There it was: the relief, the gratitude on Katniss's face, on Effie's, on half the crowd's. If they couldn't keep both of their lover tributes, at least they could keep one. No one would care about him once he was shipped back to District 12 in a wooden coffin to be buried alongside his house in a virtually empty Victor's Village.

"You can't—" the boy tried to argue.

"Watch me."

Effie could not conceal the same relief in her voice that Katniss's voice had displayed as she spoke the closing words of the reaping.

"Very well. The tributes for District 12: Katniss Everdeen and Haymitch Abernathy."

_God, what the hell am I getting myself into?_

The salute came first from Mrs. Everdeen and the girl, then like a rippling wave, spread throughout the crowd until every man, woman, and child stood defiantly abreast to send off Katniss Everdeen, their symbol of freedom—and the town drunkard.

Two pairs of gloved hands closed around his upper arms, steering him backwards into the Justice Building.

"Hey, let go. I can walk on my own—"

"Move," snapped the Peacekeeper to his right.

"I could move just fine if you'd get your damn hands off of me!"

Not for the first time in his life his rebellious attitude and running mouth earned him a smack to the back of the head. He had suffered numerous worse knocks to the head, but most recently he had been drunk and so the effects did not set in until a day or so later when he had sobered up. Now he felt the sting in full and it stunned him to the point of making him lose his balance. The Peacekeepers dragged him on so that he was half stumbling, half being carried to the train station with Katniss in tow and Effie and the boy supposedly somewhere behind them. Up the steps they went until his hostile escort dropped him unceremoniously on the floor in the dining cart. Almost at once he was up in fury, rushing back at the guards in stark white with visors to protect their foul faces, but the boy stopped him, if only briefly. He tried to get around, clawing at the Peacekeepers and shouting obscenities but now Katniss had a hold on him too and to his surprise, Effie had taken a fistful of his shirt in her polished nails until the train took off from the station with a jolt and the four of them tumbled over one another onto the carpet.

"Gerroff," he spat, struggling to disentangle himself from the knot of limbs surrounding him.

"I don't know what you were trying to accomplish back there by fighting Peacekeepers, but it was a pretty dumb move for a mentor who's been in the system for twenty-five years," said the boy spitefully, standing up and brushing himself off with a scowl.

He scrambled to his feet, leaving the women to gather themselves up behind him as he frog-marched the boy out of the room to the cart at the back of the train. Once he was certain that they were alone he locked the door as a precaution and then rounded on the boy.

"Don't gimme that look. If I could have volunteered for her I would have but it doesn't work like that."

"So you think you'll do her better good by going into the arena with her instead of getting her sponsors?"

"You're the one with the golden tongue, kid, you can get just as many sponsors for her if not more than I ever could. I know the techniques and tactics of the other tributes and I can help her avoid them. I'll do you both more good being in the arena than on the sidelines."

"Snow won't let her live," said the boy desperately. "He'll do everything he can to make sure she dies out there. It's not just a coincidence that the card made the reaping include previous tributes and you know it. He rigged the system specifically to put her back in the arena and dispose of her."

"Which is why it'll be a smack in the face when she comes out victor again. Trust me."

"Haymitch—"

He took the boy's face in his hands. "Look at me, kid. Normally she's the one I've got to calm down, so don't go to pieces on me now. I know what I'm doing, okay? If you play your cards right and let me play mine, she'll come out of this alive."

"But you won't. I can't let you do that for us. I was prepared to die for her once before, why couldn't you let me do it again?"

"No one should have to prepare to die for someone else twice, especially not someone who has their whole life ahead of them. I've had this coming, Peeta. I can do it without regrets. You two—"

He couldn't make the words come, couldn't even vomit them out with the small bit of white liquor he had chugged that morning. Neither of the kids knew how very glad he was to have coached them, how very thankful he was for their company in his last days. He had never said anything so sentimental before and he wasn't about to start now.

He clapped Peeta on the shoulder and exited the cart, heading for his room where he knew he wouldn't be tempted to reach for a bottle. From here on out he had to keep his wits about him, but that meant facing the possibility of withdrawals which always brought nightmares. Still, they couldn't be any worse than what awaited him at the end of the train line.


	2. Chapter 2: Lives to Lose

Sleep did not come easy by any means. If anything it evaded him deliberately, forcing him out of his bedroom to seek out some form of distraction. The dining cart was always open, loaded with delicacies, rich and fattening food, and of course, liquor. He swiped a plate from the stack at the end of the self-serve table and piled it high with pastries and fruit, bypassing the liquor cart with deliberate slowness as if to make forced eye contact with the temptress.

The couch at the back of the cart was set up in front of the projector screen, a direct reflection of the day to day existence of the Capitol civilians. Eat, bet, cheer, and cry in front of the television. Live in front of it, bathroom breaks excluded. Disgusting, but Haymitch figured that the way he had kept house for the past quarter of a century was no less revolting. He found the broadcast that replayed the finer points of the day's reaping to familiarize himself with his friends-turned-opponents and his acquaintances-turned-adversaries.

Starting with District 1 and a fruit tart coated in honey, he began to take mental notes as well as written ones with his right hand as he clumsily fed himself with his left. Cashmere and Gloss, relatively new when compared to other victors, but well-known and loved by the Capitol. She was the younger of the twins, having won eleven years ago and he won the year before her. Both were lethal with knives and sought out the dominant tributes to team up with. They would be sure to want Katniss, but not him, especially since he hadn't actually used a weapon in too many years than he cared to admit or count. Perhaps, if the Capitol let him go in drunk he could breathe on the other tributes and the stench might knock them out long enough for him to finish them off.

District 2 brought him to a crispy apple that had already been cored. Brutus and Enobaria. _Damn it._ Not exactly favorable for Katniss either. They would be the ones to get rid of quickly if possible. He struck the towering hulking figure with his faithful pet sidekick who just happened to have a set of fangs. Haymitch recalled watching her win the games with those clampers and had no desire to get anywhere near them. He suspected no alliance would be formed with District 2 this year—big shock—but if he could put down Brutus, Enobaria would be easier to dispatch.

The tributes for District 3 appeared before he had completed jotting down the notes from the previous district and he had to stuff a banana cream-filled doughy pastry into his mouth while fumbling to pause the screen. He groaned as he heard the escort announce the District 3 names. Beetee and Wiress weren't exactly favorites, but among those who amicably gathered each year in the Capitol and forged what could be considered friendships, seeing them reaped meant losing two kind-hearted individuals. Both rather quiet, she even more so to the point of being anti-social, but when he did speak, you listened to every word. In the arena though, they might be some of the first to go given their age in comparison to the other tributes.

With District 4 he buried his face in his sticky, sickeningly sweet-smelling hands. Partially to see the male tribute, but mostly to see the female. Finnick Odair ranked somewhere between Cashmere and Enobaria with having the knowledge in combat and being just shy of abusing that power. Another Capitol favorite. But the woman beside him, Mags. Incapable of most speech, older than any other tribute alive and the sweetest, most caring woman Haymitch had ever had the pleasure to meet. If it came down to it, he hoped that her blood would not come from his or Katniss's doing. He couldn't live with that kind of guilt, not even for the short time that he lasted in the arena.

District 5 brought about the end of his appetite and he pushed his plate away, reaching for a glass of water to wash out the raw taste in his mouth. Shade, being the female tribute, was built similar to Katniss in her current state and even looked something like her, but with golden hair instead. Her fatal beauty turned many heads in her games but her lethality came from her acrobatics and the way in which she killed her victims, snapping necks, going for pressure points before skewering them, or delivering well-placed cuts to major arteries as she dodged around the bigger, bulkier weapons of her opponents. Cobalt, the male tribute had a stocky build through the shoulders and vivid ginger hair to match his goatee. With a sly smirk that reminded Haymitch of a wild animal about to snap its jaws down on its prey, Cobalt favored a baton which he used to bludgeon the other tributes to death. Still, even with his skittish attitude towards other districts, Cobalt turned to the bottle just as Haymitch had and the two spent many games drinking and mumbling to each other in some secluded corner.

The morphlings from District 6 posed no threat whatsoever unless their camouflage concealed them so brilliantly that the other tributes never found them. The few times Haymitch had gotten either of them to speak he discovered one: that their names were Lorn and Avis and two: their names comprised of their ten-word vocabulary. Small wonder District 6 rarely had victors with mentors who were incapacitated half the t—_Like me,_ he reprimanded himself mid-thought.

From District 7 there was Blight and Johanna Mason, both contenders with axes and both playing the weak card only to come out fighting at the end with savage brutality. But that strategy wouldn't work this time around, not now that everyone knew them to be experienced killers. Haymitch would do well to remind Katniss that she was the more deadly of the two.

District 8 brought another set of old friends to the table and another loud groan from Haymitch as he spotted Cecelia who was the only tribute to have children, all of needy age. Her motherly nature came out in the arena when she cared for her fellow district tribute who had broken his ankle after toppling off of a short outcrop in the jagged terrain. She tended to him up until a Career tribute impaled him and then she strangled the Career in distress. Woof, the male tribute, was another drinking buddy, though much more trustworthy and enthusiastic than Cobalt. Apparently the Capitol did not approve of friendships lasting more than a handful of years.

Sickle and Tilly from District 9 were a great surprise to him, especially since they had both volunteered to replace much older reaped tributes. Tilly won the year after Haymitch, but she looked much better after twenty-five years and did not show her age. Her raven hair fell down on either side of her heart-shaped face, kindly and understanding, but her eyes were large, grey and watery as if she were always on the verge of tears. Sickle reflected Brutus in muscular build and hardened expression as well as a bit of savagery but the similarities stopped there. At eighteen, he had volunteered for his then twelve-year-old reaped brother which meant that this was his second time willingly going into the games.

If District 9 had shocked him, District 10 was electrifying. Lash was only six years out of her games, specializing in creating nooses out of the loose wires around the abandoned city arena that snared nine tributes. Since then the Capitol had altered her appearance somewhat with dyed white hair and rather protruding lips. Denno was of slight build with dusty brown hair and an ever-saddened expression and Haymitch suspected that the man was not capable of smiling. He had won his games by pure chance when an explosion triggered by a District 3 tribute had accidentally killed its initiator. His hands were completely clean of blood, one of the few victors to have won without killing.

Haymitch found himself gnawing on his fingernails as the last two unknown tributes from District 11 appeared. Chaff and Seeder. Here Haymitch seized his now empty water glass and flung it at the projection screen, which caused it absolutely no harm. Seeder had come to him last year to transfer Rue's sponsored gift to Katniss and openly wept for the little girl. She won her games by poisoning the Career pack's food supply. But Chaff, admittedly Haymitch's closest friend and the only maimed tribute about to reenter the games, was already at a disadvantage. The drinking quartet was complete and it was highly unlikely that any of them would come out victorious.

Now he was watching himself on screen stepping forward to take Peeta's place. He could clearly see Katniss's face and the gratefulness she displayed as well as the hurt on Peeta's. He had to betray one of them to help them both—but even now that he had had a chance to think it through, it still made his head hurt.

Swearing at the impending events of the following day, he collapsed flat on the couch, resting his arm across his forehead. Everything conflicted now that he knew who his competitors were. His long-lasting friendship would make it difficult to spill any blood in the arena, but his current standing promise to Peeta meant that he would have to get his hands dirty. Either he let the Careers finish off his friends and possible allies so that he was left facing them alone while protecting Katniss or he used his companions to hunt the Careers down and then turned around and stabbed them in the back.

Nobility be damned, volunteering for Peeta was shaping up to be one of the stupidest decisions of his life.

**Sorry for any repetitive description if you already know the tributes from the film pretty well. If you would please disregard the appearances of the unnamed tribute from Districts 5, (partially 6), 9, and 10, I wanted to reinvent them to fit my story line. And all the description is key to what comes later, I promise! **


	3. Chapter 3: Before the Games Begin

No one expected Haymitch to actually make it to the games in Peeta's stead so a new stylist had not been ordered for him and his previous stylist was dead, so Portia agreed to stay on alongside Cinna. He had to admit this team, while making a true statement at the last games, kept to a style that did not cause one bit of embarrassment or indignation in their tributes. Katniss kept up a constant stream of comments on Cinna's work which Peeta wholly supported, but nonetheless, Haymitch was a little hesitant as to what angle the stylists would play now that the star-crossed lovers was no longer an item in the games.

His prep team, previously Peeta's as well, insisted on waxing his chest and shaving his face as well as trimming his hair which was then tied back the better to see his hardened features. He had to bite his tongue to keep from protesting at this since he preferred to use his curtains of blonde to partially conceal scowls he reserved for select individuals. Besides a bottle of liquor, his scowl was his trademark. His face had been vigorously scrubbed to cleanse it of all alcohol traces until the rawness threatened to set his skin on fire. Never had his fingernails been so clean, his teeth so white (the prep team tried to persuade him to alter them so that they met the aligned, even standards of the Capitol but he put his foot down at this), his posture so straight. Slumping over a table passed out drunk through the years had caused a permanent forward slouch in his posture which his team temporarily fixed by strapping a metal plate to his back, forcing him to keep his body in line.

Portia then concealed the plate with a metallic grey tunic that exposed his gleaming chest and stopped at his elbows. The rest of his costume was much the same, save for his shin-high boots that were coated in shimmering black polish. When she had finished with him, Portia led him to the mirror where he had to work very hard to not let his signature frown appear at the sight of him looking like a dress up doll in comparison to his old self. At least he wasn't naked.

He met Katniss in the tunnel where the other tributes were mingling, exchanging banter happily as old friends reunited. They might have been preparing to celebrate a birthday instead of lining up for slaughter. Katniss was the outlier here where her only current friend was him, Haymitch.

As he suspected, Chaff, Woof, and Cobalt had gathered near the District 11 chariot and were laughing in booming voices that carried all the way up to the District 1 chariot where the Careers had already formed up. Knowing it would be one of the last instances for the four of them to reminisce on happier times, Haymitch joined them, unable to help noticing that he was actually the best dressed and that his costume caught the eye more than theirs did combined.

Much like Rue and Thresh the previous year and the tributes the year before that all the way back to the 54th Hunger Games, Chaff's stylist had dressed him in denim blue with some silver token in the shape of a wheat stalk tucked over his left ear. Woof wore a sleek red one piece that showed off his midsection bulk in a rather unflattering way. Cobalt had an electric blue bolt to match his name spiking out across his chest, woven into the fabric of his midnight blue tunic. Obviously in an attempt to outdo Cinna's costume from last year when he set Katniss and Peeta on fire, Cobalt's stylist had obviously tried to incorporate the district element into his costume but the whole thing clashed horribly with that ginger hair of his.

"That hair makes quite a statement," said Woof, eyeing Haymitch's costume with amusement.

"Going for a new angle with the lovers of District 12, then?" asked Cobalt mockingly. Unlike the other tributes, he has a slight accent that sounded much more sincere and genuine, natural next to the overly exaggerated flourish of the Capitol residents. Where or how he picked it up remained a mystery, but it was one of the few unnerving things about him including his hair and his smirk.

"Bit old for the Girl on Fire, aren't you?" said Chaff, punching Haymitch playfully in the shoulder.

But Haymitch felt oddly disconnected from them as he stood there, taking their good-natured insults. Might this have felt different if he had let Peeta enter into the games? His protectiveness for Katniss was starting to rise after Cobalt's statement and under different circumstances he might have had some sort of witty comeback but now he felt a burning desire to crush Cobalt's foot under his heel and maybe elbow Chaff in the stomach. _Grow up_, he wanted to shout at them. This was serious now; their friendship would last less than a week and jabs at sexual innuendo would come back to haunt them in the arena if they kept it up.

His expression must have shown, for Woof placed a precautionary hand on his shoulder and shook him out of his daze. "Hey, are you still with us, Abernathy?"

"Yeah, for now," said Haymitch, not liking the way in which Cobalt was seemingly sizing him up as if to determine how much of a threat he would be once the gong rang out and the bloodbath began. True, Haymitch had a bit more weight in his middle from his years of binging alcohol than he would like, especially now that speed and strength were key to survival, but he had Cobalt beat by almost two inches and where Cobalt was quick, Haymitch was strong.

_Stop that_, he told himself. But why? He would have to kill them sooner or later and the sooner he figured out their new weaknesses the better. The frostiness in the air between them, however, suggested that Haymitch may have found his first opponent.

"Tributes mount up," said the voice of Claudius Templesmith, echoing throughout the tunnel.

"See you all in training tomorrow," said Haymitch, stepping back and then turning on his heel.

"Get some liquor in your system by then," called Chaff in suggestion.

At the District 12 chariot Cinna was helping Katniss to step up in place and instructing her on something that involved a button. She leaned over so that Peeta could kiss her cheek as Haymitch positioned himself beside her, staring pointedly at the button in her right hand as Cinna walked away.

"What's that do?" he asked suspiciously.

"It'll make a statement to Snow," said Katniss without further explanation. When Haymitch continued to watch her she rolled her eyes and added, "It's fake, but if you think you can't handle it you're more than welcome to hold on to me for support."

"Attitude, sweetheart. I'm not anymore pleased to be here than you, but I expected a bit more appreciation after I took a bullet for that boy."

"Sorry," she said without sounding like it.

"Look, just keep a lid on it until the ride's over otherwise I might be tempted to push you off the chariot and say it was an accident," he warned as the line began to move.

In no time they had cleared the tunnel and the blinding sunlight nearly made Haymitch stagger backwards enough to topple from the chariot platform. Katniss used her free hand to catch his wrist and hold him steady long enough for him to regain his balance and find a handhold which was lucky because a moment later her magic button from the god of style ignited his shirt and pants in fiery sparks similar to volcanic extract. He gripped the side of the chariot, watching his shoulders smolder as the crowd went ballistic and chanted. The cameras had settled on them but were now honing in on Katniss which was just fine with him.

After circling the courtyard in front of President Snow's mansion they returned the tunnels and Haymitch hurried off to the elevator, leaving Katniss behind with Peeta to engage in conversation with some of the other tributes. Unfortunately the elevator was already packed with six other tributes and he had to squeeze in between Enobaria and Beetee, the latter of whom gave him a casual nod in greeting. At the back of the lift Brutus was leaning against the glass, turning his eyes on each tribute in turn, no doubt mentally picking his allies. Beside Enobaria, though, the only other tribute who Haymitch could see Brutus teaming up with was possibly Sickle who had his head down, arms folded, not watching or speaking.

The elevator stopped shortly at the second floor and Enobaria stepped off, rounding the corner without word to any of them. Brutus puffed out his chest and confronted Denno who swallowed and flattened himself against the glass and Sickle in his haste to move aside. Once the grilles had shut and they were moving upward again Sickle shoved Denno off of him.

"If you can't stand up to him now, you're going to be the first one he goes after when he steps off his pedestal," he told Denno.

"Oh, let off him," said Tilly reprovingly.

Ignoring her, Sickle jabbed his finger into Denno's chest. "You want allies and sponsors, buddy? Then stop acting like a weakling and show the people something worth investing their time into."

Beetee stepped between the two and gently pushed them apart, taking the defense on Denno's behalf. "That's enough, now. We're all friends here, aren't we? Right here, the five of us half gone through many years of mentoring, trying to keep tributes alive to preserve childhood, haven't we? That arena does not change any of that. Though I cannot speak for everyone, I am still the image of the boy I was when I first went into the games and I plan to retain that image despite what happens on opening morning. I will not begrudge any of you here, nor the Career tributes for the deeds we must do once inside. The situation is the same as the first time: we do not want to kill, but we will so that we—or someone we value even above ourselves—live."

Sickle's pale blue eyes did not look convinced, but he had always gotten on well with Beetee and did not seek out an argument now.

Beetee got off on the third floor, leaving the rest of them in pained silence until they came to another stop on the ninth where Sickle and Tilly departed. Haymitch chose his words carefully when speaking to Denno, but wanted to encourage him all the same.

"He wasn't angry at you, you know. Any anger from the tributes is only directed one way and it's not at each other. He just doesn't want you to give up before the games even begin."

"I did last time," said Denno. "Dumb luck saw me through to the end. I was the accidental victor. It's not by choice that I don't kill, Haymitch; I just can't. I don't harvest that kind of hate towards anyone or anything enough to want to kill."

"What if you saw someone you cared about slaughtered?" Haymitch posed. "You can't tell me you'd stand by and do nothing."

"I can't answer that on behalf of not having any of those individuals to speak about," said Denno and for the first time, with a coolness to his voice.

"Not even Lash?"

A set of pale pink patches appeared on Denno's cheeks. _Gotcha._

"She wasn't known to me last time. She was only three when I was reaped and I didn't mentor her until eleven years after—"

"And that's supposed to make a difference?"

"But she won't make it either, not with the Career pack that we have this year, excluding Mags."

Haymitch lowered his voice and stepped closer to Denno so that their shoulders brushed. The cameras were watching so he patted Denno's back as if comforting him while whispering, "Well, if you've given up on her and given up on yourself, what would you say to helping me get one out who can seek revenge for you?"


	4. Chapter 4: Allies and Opponents

Katniss was still not on good speaking terms with him the following morning as they arrived for training. Both were secretly against it, her because she was hesitant to take allies after the incident with Rue, and him because he was just offering himself up as bait for those who didn't already know that he was no fighter. He might be more physically fit and younger than a good portion of the tributes (nearly half, actually), but even with the strict regime of training in District 12 by demand of Katniss, he was still nowhere near as robust as Brutus, Sickle, Gloss, or Finnick.

By the time the two of them arrived at the training facility, groups had already started to form out of the ones that put in an appearance this early. The Careers from 1 and 2 claimed the fire starting station which would definitely come in handy since not one in the four of them were able to start fires the last time around. Blight and Johanna were taking turns warming up their muscles with axe throwing: he favored a double-bladed weapon where hers had one side. Chaff, Woof, and Cobalt were jokingly selecting weapons at the rack. Shade had called on one of the on duty stand-ins to battle against while dangling from ropes. Tilly and Lash were tinkering with pre-detonated explosives that beeped with every failed deactivation or attempt to plant them. But Denno had his head down as always, inconspicuously working on a snare with Mags and Cecelia.

_Spread the word._ That was the last bit of advice Haymitch had given his fellow tribute before they parted on the elevator the day before and it pleased him to see that Denno had taken it to heart.

The morphlings, Sickle, Finnick, and Seeder had not yet come down, but Haymitch didn't rule out the possibility of recruiting them—except maybe Finnick. If Mags was sold, he would be too, but once she went down out there, he might have a change of heart.

"Mingle, sweetheart," Haymitch muttered to Katniss, setting off for the very back where Beetee and Wiress were consulting the overhead projector on which plants were edible. Wiress reached for one with bright orange edges and with hardly any effort as if he expected it, Beetee grabbed her elbow and lowered it with a shake of his head, still reading the pamphlet above.

Haymitch gave Wiress a warm smile and leaned over, pretending to rummage in a box of sample plants that were less toxic when dried out. "Katniss," he said, hardly moving his lips.

Beetee pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and crushed a mixture of leaves and berries before placing them on the scanner to test for safety. He was rewarded with a pleasant _ding_ and Wiress clapped. Under cover of her applause, Beetee replied, "Yes."

To avoid suspicion Haymitch spent another half hour at the same station, trying in vain to pick out one plant from another but in the back of his mind he assured himself that Katniss could just keep him on track with those. Unhealthy mindset for someone going into the Games, automatically relying on another tribute for survival. Glancing around casually he was able to keep tabs on Katniss who was actually getting on well with Gloss at the camouflage station and Denno who had circulated to Tilly and Lash. Haymitch caught his eye and then jerked his head under the pretense of clearing his hair from his face towards Mags who had now been joined by Finnick. Denno nodded once.

_That makes six if Finnick and Cecelia are in too. Seven including me. Seven so far out of twenty-three._

Haymitch had his doubts about 1 and 2 seeing the deal through to the end, even if they did want Katniss in the beginning stages to help hunt down the other tributes. Avis and Lorn were another issue since they had as much to give as Mags physically but not so lucky as her to have a protector like Finnick. That left Sickle, Cobalt, and Shade for varying reasons, most of them relying on the fact that Haymitch didn't trust them, not this time around. Ten versus fourteen with all the brutish and savage tributes on the opposing sides.

"Haymitch, over here," called Enobaria from the knife-throwing simulation. Knowing he was in for disgrace in front of the Gamemakers, Haymitch trudged over to where she stood balancing a knife on her fingertip. "Still sleep with one of these?" she asked.

"Wouldn't you?" he shot back.

"Not if I knew I could kill anyone who snuck up on me while I was sleeping with my bare hands—or teeth." She flashed him her pearly jagged whites but he held his ground.

"I don't have much of an appetite when I wake up, though."

Enobaria blanched and then turning the knife point down, shouted, "Catch!"

Haymitch stepped back in reaction but he could not stop his hand from shooting upward to try and grab the knife. The blade hit the ground next to his foot and Enobaria nodded in a satisfied sort of way. She had him now. Not only had he failed to completely move out of the way of the knife, but he had also fumbled it. She would pass it on to Brutus and District 1 that he, Haymitch, should be an early finish.

"You take care, Haymitch," she said derisively and strode off to join her district partner.

Fuming, Haymitch swiped up the knife from where it had fallen and chucked it blindly at the wall. Cold, thick concrete could not break under the force of a thrown steel knife, but after the clang of the blade on the ground alerted the entire facility of his actions, Haymitch decided to at least go and retrieve it, knowing the Gamemakers were still watching. To his rather dazed surprise, he found a quarter inch indent in the concrete where the knife had struck but not embedded. Either he had superhuman strengths unknown or this was some top quality steel he held in his hand.

"Don't look so surprised or everyone will think you didn't plan that," said Sickle, stabbing a spear point repeatedly into the ground in a bored sort of fashion. Haymitch started to reply but Sickle followed up with a sharp, "Seriously. Everyone thinks you meant to do that so at least try to look convincing."

"And you don't think I meant to?"

"I know you didn't. You're one of those tributes that doesn't have a signature weapon or tactic. You won by using a weapon you weren't supposed to have. Now, I don't know what skills you demonstrated in your private sessions the first time around but it couldn't have been impressive because you got a six as your training score, didn't you?"

"A seven," said Haymitch defensively. "And I made controlled fireballs with oil, rags, and a makeshift catapult but I never got the chance to light a fire in the arena."

"Fireballs?" Sickle scoffed. "Of course they didn't give you the chance to try out your skill; you'd have set the entire meadow on fire."

"What did you do that earned you your eight?" asked Haymitch, now thoroughly annoyed with the superior card Sickle was playing.

"I swallowed poison," the bigger man responded in all seriousness though Haymitch had difficulty believing that one.

"Have you seen Katniss shoot yet?"

The question was abrupt in context of the conversation, but perhaps he could ease into the subject to find out Sickle's loyalties. A man who put himself up for slaughter twice to save family and the elderly had to have some sense of unity, of rebellion. He would want those people well cared for in light of his impending death. Right?

"Yeah, I have." He winked.

_That's eight._

Just then there came a deafening crash as Lorn accidentally bumped into Brutus and Cobalt's painting supplies, knocking the lot of it to the ground and spilling paint onto their shoes. Brutus made a menacing step towards the male morphling who slipped in his haste to retreat and cowered where he fell. The stand-by guards blew their whistles and closed in on Brutus but he never even touched Lorn. Someone so heavily influenced by medication was already thoroughly damaged and the threat of a beating was enough to make him surrender, something Brutus knew since he had been intimidating people for nearly thirty years. He stomped off to get his shoes cleaned up while Avis and Blight helped Lorn to his feet. Cobalt returned to painting his dirk to match his clothing, making him appear unarmed.

Haymitch pulled up a stool beside him but did not even bother to appear as if he had the slightest interest in camouflaging anything. His mood had gone from relieved to confrontational in less than a minute.

"You're wasting valuable time, Haymitch," said Cobalt without looking at him. "You should be sharpening up on something that might actually win you a decent score in your private session."

Haymitch knocked the dirk out of Cobalt's hand. Cobalt went into a defensive stance in anticipation of further attack. "What the hell was that for?" he growled.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" Haymitch demanded. "Teaming up with the Career pack, are you? That's a good way to turn everyone else against you."

"Maybe I have a strategy worked out, dear friend," Cobalt replied sardonically. "Perhaps it's the safe bet to side with the Careers this time around seeing as how I nearly got my skull taken off when I stayed with 6 and 7 the last time." He gestured to his forehead above his right eyebrow where the skin was pulled up, giving him an asymmetrical appearance from where the tribute girl from 4 had tried to slice off his head with a razor sharp throwing disc.

"So you've already left the drinking game, is that it? You'd drop the rest of us just like that without even having the dignity to apologize for what's to come or to say goodbye?" Betrayal had never quite stung like this. Cobalt was always the oddest of the group, but between the last Games and the present, his attitude towards previous friends, particularly Haymitch had turned hostile.

"It's going to happen anyway whether you like it or not, Haymitch. I'm prepared for my _friends_ to slip a knife between my ribs. You think Chaff and Woof are going to link arms with you and sing shanties while everyone else gets killed around them? No, they'll resort to any means of survival they can and pick off anyone who stands in their way whether they pose a threat like the Careers or not like that coward who let Brutus bully him. Even if you've reserved yourself to die, your body and mind will react against your will. You'll fight for survival and do anything necessary to come out victor. Anyone who still believes that friendship will outlast the Hunger Games will be the first to die, believe me."

_That's five strikes against us_.

"Alright, I see how it is now. Glory over humanity. Well, you have fun out there, _buddy_." He put as much contempt as he could into the last word and pushed the rest of Cobalt's painting supplies off of the table. "And one more thing: go to hell."

A water spigot hammered into the wall marked the refreshment stand and Haymitch parked himself at it, tossing a cupful of water into his face to cool the steam building up inside his head. The first betrayal of the 75th Hunger Games and they weren't yet in the arena. Fantastic.


	5. Chapter 5: No Hidden Skills

Katniss grilled him on every detail he knew of every tribute and made him test his physical limits in the next two days of training. She requested to Peeta to pass on her hopes of forming an alliance with District 3, Blight, Cecelia, Tilly, and Chaff. She had no idea whatsoever that Haymitch had all of her requests—in fact the majority of the tributes were vying to see her through to the end, or however close they got before the lights went out. Six real opponents and sixteen allies. Either this would work out as planned or blow up in their faces.

The morphlings, Seeder, Denno, Woof, and Chaff did not appear at the Training Center the next two days which meant that Haymitch had no one to vent his anger out to concerning Cobalt who, along with Shade, had started joining the Career pack in all events and at lunch. The other tributes turned a cold shoulder to District 5 but remarkably still remained friendly with the Careers to an extent.

The real challenge was not the climbing bars or the hours of scrambling over foam blocks to avoid blows from a stand-in, or making a damn fire from damp wood. No, it came on the final day of training when Haymitch face planted spectacularly on a mat after failing to dodge a swing from a metal pole in an obstacle simulation. He felt a stinging pain in his nose and his eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he cursed and held his hand up to stop the bleeding. Then he heard laughter from the other side of the facility.

There was no mistaking the owner and in two seconds flat Haymitch was striding over to where Cobalt was practicing swings with a sword on a wooden dummy. Katniss, Sickle, and Tilly had to restrain him as he fought to get at the back-stabbing bastard and only when a guard threatened to have him removed from the center did he finally walk away.

Now as he sat watching Cobalt descend deeper into the training center to face the Gamemakers for his private sessions, he wished for the coward to fail miserably at his skill and earn him a score that would make the Careers reconsider their union with him and wipe him out in the first five minutes of the Games.

_And die slow, you piece of lowly, traitorous—_

"Haymitch, I know you're angry," said Katniss, jerking him rudely from his wishful thinking.

"What?"

"About Cobalt. I know you're upset at what he's chosen to do, and even though it's given you motivation to train like I've never seen you do before, it might be a distraction once the Games start. I need you focused from here on out, okay? Odds are that the Careers will kill him or else I will just for you."

"No, you leave him to me if he's still alive after the bloodbath," Haymitch growled under his breath.

"Fine, but until then, could you wipe that rabid look off your face and pay attention?"

"I could do that."

Though she may be a pain in the ass to get along with at times, Haymitch knew he was not being fair to her in the little attention he had shown her since the reaping and the almost nonexistent advice he had given her when she didn't ask for it. Regardless of the fact that all of his actions had been centered on finding supporters for her once in the arena, his emotions were geared towards his own needs and wants. This was no longer about surviving and playing it safe under the ever watchful eye of the Capitol; this was about seeing the Girl on Fire through to the end. Any delusions of survival for himself had to be quashed immediately.

Well, that certainly made it easier to deal with going into the solitary sessions with the Gamemakers. Admittedly he had lost sleep over the prospect of performing in front of them once again and scoring lower than maybe four of the other tributes. What special skill could he show them? He thought wryly of challenging them to a drinking contest out of pure spite, but alcohol would not be provided in the arena, so there would be no such substance in training. He couldn't walk in and do nothing, but what could he possibly do that they either didn't already knew he was capable of, or that one of the previous twenty-two tributes hadn't already shown them?

They had been instructed to not speak to other districts while in the waiting room, but Chaff, who was sitting two seats down from Haymitch, leaned around Seeder and murmured, "Make it up as you go."

It wasn't much to go off of since he had planned that anyway, but the stressful anger and hate he had been feeling the past few days dissipated slightly at Chaff's risk of punishment just to comfort him.

Then, all too soon, he heard Claudius announce, "Haymitch Abernathy, District 12. Report for individual assessment."

"Good luck," said Katniss and he could see that she meant it.

The boost of confidence Chaff had given him spluttered to a halt as he stood in the center of the performance room with every eye trained on him. Plutarch Heavensbee stood up and motioned at the vast array of weapons around the room.

"Haymitch Abernathy, you have ten minutes to show us your skill."

_My skills include loud belching, colorful swearing, and unprecedented revulsion._

He recognized most of the Gamemakers, smirking in superiority as they whispered behind their hands, pointing a thumb at him or scribbling on a notepad marks that looked suspiciously like "x"s and "0"s. Already they had given him up as a bad joke, a disappointment next to the baker with the golden tongue they expected. They had hoped for Peeta who still had talents unknown and unchallenged since he hardly got to use them in the last Games. But in their eyes Haymitch was just the drunkard from District 12 who tried to earn himself a bit of glory by volunteering.

Without planning it and without fully knowing how to handle half of them, Haymitch pulled weapons off of the rack at random, lining himself up with a target and aiming, throwing, chucking them with subjugated fierceness. Hardly aware of what he was doing, he snatched up a sword and hacked at a dummy; he found a coil of wire and looped it around another dummy's arm, severing right through so that the appendage clunked to the floor. The injustice, the years spent waiting for an opportunity to spit back in the Capitol's face after they left him with nothing, it all came hurtling down on him now.

He grabbed a knife, no bigger than the one he slept with at home and with a yell that nearly broke his vocal chords, brought it slicing down across the dummy's neck. The head teetered sideways and slipped off the support. He hadn't meant to decapitate it and certainly didn't know it was possible with a knife this size, but he didn't care. He let the blade fall at his feet and bit his lip hard, waiting for steam to billow out of his already tender nose under the exertion.

"Thank you, you are dismissed," said Plutarch after a prolonged silence.

What type of score did all of that merit? Anyone could pick up a weapon and use it to some extent, but he had been so pumped with adrenaline, so oblivious to his surroundings, that he did not even stop to see if any of his throws made the target. What did it matter, though? Whatever score he received was irrelevant next to the tributes who all knew what he could do anyway.

Watching the scores that night was still painful though. Effie, Cinna, Portia, and Peeta had closed in around him and Katniss, forming a protective semi-circle on the couches. They were all sitting closer together than usual, but Haymitch was grateful for their presence. Being in the room with the Gamemakers could only be compared to facing a pack of wolves alone where there was no other human to comfort you. Here now amongst friends, he could finally breathe properly.

As a surprise to no one, Districts 1 and 2 earned 9s and 10s. Districts 3, 6, 8, and 11 as well as Mags and Denno averaged between 3 and 6. Finnick scored a 10. Lash and Tilly each earned 7s, Blight and Johanna had 8s, Sickle had a 9. Shade and Cobalt came in with matching 9s as well.

"From District 12, Haymitch Abernathy," said the violently purple-haired Caesar Flickerman. His perfect mouth of unnaturally white marble split into a wide grin. "A score of 10."

_Well, shit, if that doesn't beat all._

Effie gave an uncharacteristic whoop while Cinna and Portia drank to Haymitch's success. Peeta shared a knowing smile with him and Katniss squeezed his hand, congratulating him so that she nearly missed her score, a two-for-two matched up 11 from the previous year's score.

The score didn't matter with the tributes who had their own way of ranking their fellow competitors, but the audience would bet on the odds given by each score and sponsors rarely took interest in anyone ranking below a 9. Peeta would be able to get countless sponsors for Katniss, and if he gave them something to root for, Haymitch might come out just as lucky.

Ten. _Ten!_ Haymitch allowed himself a grin, wondering how the Careers who scraped a 9 felt now that an alcoholic had outscored them. He envisioned Cobalt's sour, disbelieving face seven floors below as the screen flashed out the scores once again.

_Choke on that, Cobalt._


	6. Chapter 6: A Word of Defiance

At least black was a flattering color. Portia had him dressed in a tailcoat with a grey undershirt made of the same material as his parade costume. His tie was a deep blood-red color that seemed to sift like the actual thing when it caught the light. If not for the fact that this was the one and only time he would wear it, he would have sincerely enjoyed donning it.

This was the last of it: the parades, the false smiles, the careful conversations. After tonight, he could act and speak as he damn well pleased as long as he kept Katniss right beside him. His agenda included seeing her through to the finish as the main priority but if he could get close enough, he wanted to finish off as many opposing tributes as he could—all six of them if he could manage it.

All he had to do now was give Caesar something to work with, maybe get in a good laugh or slam down a word that'll really get under the Capitol's skin, and then get a good night's rest. The idea was laughable: a good night's rest.

He chuckled to himself as he turned to the screen where Denno was being interviewed by Caesar. The audience knew Denno but with so many more interesting tributes, they hardly paid him much mind in the past. Now, however, Caesar was highlighting everything he could about the blood-free tribute.

"Denno, your last Games were won by you evading detection until the last moment. You emerged triumphant without ever giving anyone so much as a paper cut. How did you do it?"

With a partial shrug, Denno addressed the microphone rather than Caesar. "I ask myself that every day. I know that strategy won't work this time, but if I had shown the Gamemakers how good at hiding I was in my private session they might have given me a higher score and made me more of a target to the Careers."

It was the first time Haymitch ever recalled Denno getting some sort of favorable response from the crowd, but it doesn't last long as he adds in a very un-Denno-like way, "Out there, no one can hide from the Games because somehow we always end up together to form alliances or spill blood. The first time I was scared to kill; I didn't know how and was thankful that none of those children died by my hand. But now, I've known most of my fellow tributes for more years than I care to recall and we've formed a unified vision. We've made it entertaining to come back to the Games every year. I wish there was some way we could preserve that."

Caesar, like Haymitch, noted the underlying accusations at the Capitol, but he had the grace to pat Denno's back and say without too much of a pause, "We all wish we could preserve that, Denno. It has been our pleasure seeing you and the others contribute so much enthusiasm and energy into the Games. Future tributes will never know what fine mentoring they've missed out on."

_No, they won't Caesar,_ though Haymitch, silently applauding Denno's words. _They most certainly won't._

And then, he knew what he would say to make a lasting impression.

Caesar introduced him with playful repartee and the audience soaked it up after having many laughs at Haymitch's expense last year after he took a nose-dive off of the Justice Building platform. Haymitch knew where to play and where to pull out weightiness in the conversation because he had been catering to an audience for almost as long as Caesar. To win sponsors for tributes, he had to make not only himself, but the tributes look pleasing, desirable, worthy, which was what Caesar did in drawing out only a tribute's best qualities.

"So, Haymitch, you so nobly took Peeta Mellark's place in the reaping. Tell us, what was going on through your head at that moment? And what spurred that act of selfishness?"

"Well, Caesar, I can honestly say that I wasn't prepared to do any volunteering until the second after Peeta's name was called," Haymitch answered. There was truth to that statement since he only decided to make good on his promise to Katniss rather than Peeta at the last possible moment. "But I owed him that much because he and Katniss finally hired me a maid to clean my house since I'm normally out stone-cold too often to do it myself."

More laughter, a smattering of appreciative claps, even some sympathetic faces. Yes, he had the crowd right where he wanted them.

"Can you describe to us Peeta's reaction after you volunteered?" asked Caesar coyly.

Peeta sat in the front row off to the left with Cinna and Portia. Haymitch couldn't very well reveal his assent to let Katniss win or why he wanted her to win so he once again played the drunken card.

"He asked me to take care of her as well as he would and warned me not to go for the liquor the night before the Games."

Now people were sobbing at the star-crossed lovers still caring for each other by using their mentor as the seal on letters confessing love. The audience believed that Haymitch was simply trying to save just one of them by volunteering and that he had taken Peeta's place because Peeta was family. And they were absolutely right. He didn't have much, but what Haymitch did have was the victors of the 74th annual Hunger Games.

"And how do you plan on protecting Katniss when Peeta can't?"

"Well, it would help if Peeta could lend us a hand in the arena, but I think for starters I'll let her stand on my shoulders to give her better height with her bow."

Caesar turned to Katniss who stood with the other tributes on an elevated platform behind the main stage and blew her a kiss in farewell.

"But one thing's for certain, Caesar," said Haymitch, dealing the last of his cards in a very risky maneuver. "I may not be a threat in the eyes of some, but I will try my damndest to make the Games humane. Mentoring throughout the years has made it easier to say goodbye to tributes who we know won't be coming home, but for every child we have to let go, we gain a friend in the past victors who go through the same thing every year. Our grief in watching our tributes die gives us a common enemy: death. So out there, if I have to kill, I do it to spare my fellow tributes, my friends from anything worse that the Games have to offer."

Now he'd done it, deliberately called out the Capitol, Snow, and anyone who supported the system in Panem of trying to keep the districts divided by avoiding friendships. Despite their very best efforts, the victors had still formed bonds over the years to share sorrow and whispered grumblings about the system. The Capitol could send them all into the arena to murder each other, but there would be some who kept to the code of camaraderie for as long as they could.

"Yes, well all the best to you, Haymitch," said Caesar, his plastic beam faltering with a fearful glance at the cameras.

Haymitch trudged up the steps, making each footfall stand out in the veritably silent auditorium. At the top he fell into line beside Katniss who was of the same mind as him for an absolute whammer of a closing. The two of them pressed their three middle fingers on their left hands to their mouths and then raised their hands high so that the cameras would be sure to pick them up.

Only because there were no other tributes to evenly replace the two of them did Haymitch and Katniss survive the journey back to the Training Center. Effie and Peeta waited for them in the lounge, looking nervous as the sounds of Peacekeepers' artillery rang out on the city floor below.

"They'll be coming to clear out the mentors," said Peeta, hugging Katniss to him. "I'll be on top of things, winning you sponsors every chance I have. Both of you just—just take care of each other, okay? _Both_ of you." His arms shook slightly as he embraced Haymitch but the extra squeeze he gave was his way of reminding Haymitch to stick to the plan.

The last time he said goodbye to the boy he had been on the other side, heading towards the door of life and yet even from a tribute's perspective, Haymitch still feared for Peeta's safety now that he wasn't at his shoulder, encouraging the right moves and shooting down the wrong ones. It was possible that Katniss might actually be the safer of the two.

Effie was having a very noisy goodbye with Katniss, blowing away into her handkerchief as she rocked back and forth upright with Katniss in her arms who looked appallingly uncomfortable. Deciding it was time to step in and rescue her and also step away from Peeta's penetrating stare, Haymitch pulled Effie into an awkward sideways embrace and rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. He motioned to Katniss to retreat to her room while Effie was distracted but Peeta seized the opportunity to give her one last kiss and whisper a final note of devotion in her ear. Meanwhile Effie rested her head on Haymitch's shoulder, still dabbing at her eyes that were a complete mess with bright pink eye liner leaking down her face to give the impression that her eyes were bleeding pink frosting. Hiccups had replaced her sobs and Haymitch didn't know what else to do but wait for it to be over. He was never a model subject at this sort of thing anyway. At times he absolutely loathed human contact.

By the time Effie composed herself enough to look up from her handkerchief, Katniss had gone and Peeta was waiting for her by the elevator.

"You should be going," said Haymitch pointedly over the sound of her hiccups and she nodded.

"Where's Katniss? Has she gone to bed already?"

"She didn't want to keep you," Haymitch invented. "And I don't want to either in case you get in trouble for being here when you should be gone already, so please, go now. And stop crying."

"You'll look after her?" Effie asked. "For as long as you can?"

"Yeah," he replied, wishing she would just get a move on already.

"I'll take care of Peeta."

Because the idea was so ludicrous of someone like Effie shielding Peeta from the Capitol, Haymitch choked to swallow the laugh that longed to escape his throat. Effie mistook the tears of pain in his eyes for emotion and threw her arms around him.

"I know, I know," she said in what she apparently thought was a comforting gesture. "It has been wonderful mentoring alongside you, Haymitch and I admire you for doing everything in your power to protect our victors. Thank you."

"Mmhmm." _Let go now. Now…nnn—ow._

A finishing kiss on his cheek was the very last he thought he could take from her but then she finally let go and scurried back to the elevator in her ridiculously high heels. Peeta held the doors open to let her through and before he could give Haymitch any sort of signal that might be caught on concealed camera, Haymitch turned heel and slammed his bedroom door shut behind him.

He ordered a bottle of liquor from the menu on the wall and set it down across from him as he knelt on the carpet in front of his bed.

Katniss. Peeta. Allies, Careers. Denno, Chaff, Cobalt.

Names shot through his brain at lightning speed and he had no desire to sleep with the energy coursing through him. After launching from the tubes, he would need to get a feel for the location in the arena, sparing maybe ten seconds, and then it would be a matter of locating Katniss. Weapons came after Katniss, allies third, and then he'd worry about the six going against them.

Twice as many tributes or twice the skill of any tribute. Either way, he was getting screwed over twice in twenty-five years.


	7. Chapter 7: Pedestal of Glory

He regretted that last shot of liquor. He regretted the six shots that came before that. After realizing how very stupid and selfish it was of him to be downing the foul substance the eve of the Games, he had smashed the bottle against the door and found a button in the shower that sprayed thick jets of water down on his head mercilessly, drenching him fully clothed in seconds and pounding on him to wash away the effects of the liquor. If he thought he could beat his addiction by pure willpower to save Katniss, he had poorly misjudged himself. Ever since the reaping he had still snuck a glass here or there but masked his breath with very strongly-scented foods and changed clothes as well as taken enough showers to make up for the weeks at a time where he went without. But this last night had pushed him too far and the bottle won, casting him into a hazy, blurred version of reality where images swam up before him and he lost most of the feeling in his neglected body from his neck down.

Despite his very best effort to remedy his splitting headache and his delayed body movements, the morning brought him enormous head pains, nausea, and chills. He spent the early hours in the restroom, hunched over the toilet trying to vomit everything up and then passed out with his cheek plastered to the seat with saliva and upchuck. An Avox shook him awake by the shoulder, helped him to his feet, and placed him under the stream of water again to wash away the regurgitated vomit and rich food that plastered the front of his shirt. When the Avox returned to dress him for the journey to the arena, Haymitch sat down in the shower, stubbornly refusing the boy's help. One too many people had seen him naked in his life and he did not want to add the Avox to his list, though depending on the layout of the arena, the audience might get more than they bargained for with him. Motioning at the clock on the wall, the Avox backed out and only then did Haymitch change into clean, dry clothes to meet Portia on the roof.

Somewhere in the back of his head he knew that he had a schedule to keep and though he tried to focus on the task at hand, his body was fighting him at every turn. Before the hovercraft appeared to transport he and Portia to the arena, she had to steady him before he toppled sideways into the force field that cast a dome over the roof.

"Oh, Haymitch, you didn't," she said fearfully, clearly appalled.

"Couldn't…help it…" said Haymitch sluggishly.

"I may be able to fix that."

"I'd love you if you could."

Portia took over steering and helped him with his mobility until the hovercraft lowered and the ladder descended to transport them on board. Once secured inside, Portia instructed Haymitch to not speak and avoid eye contact so that the Peacekeepers would not suspect him of being drunk. He hardly felt the tracker as a woman inserted it into his right forearm and stared at the spot where it had gone in for most of the ride. When they were nearing their destination Portia handed him a tiny bottle of teal liquid which he downed instantly. Within seconds his headache reduced to a very faint throb and his nausea dissipated altogether.

Of course, the nausea returned in full once he entered the Launch Room, but for entirely different reasons. Portia let him dress himself in what looked like a wetsuit for underwater excursions. Perhaps there were apparatuses for breathing under the water at the Cornucopia and anyone who couldn't get to one would die once they flooded the arena. The thought did not appeal to him in the slightest, but then again, it might be easier to have a flood take out the tributes so that he wouldn't have to face the Careers or District 5 and he wouldn't have to kill his friends.

"Not much room for carrying anything unless you find a pack at the Cornucopia," said Portia, running her fingers over the material and examining it. "Do you have a strategy?"

"Working on it," said Haymitch untruthfully. In reality he had a plan all laid out, but the execution was the hard part. The bloodbath would determine how well things worked out.

"Sixty seconds to launch," said Claudius Templesmith.

_Suck it, pal._

"Good luck out there, Haymitch."

Portia hugged him sincerely and he understood the double tap she gave his shoulder to mean more than what her eyes said.

He stepped into the tube and kept his arms closed in to his sides as the glass cylinder encased him. Mustering a half-smile that probably looked more like a grimace, Haymitch waved to Portia until she was lost from sight and he was traveling upward. He automatically clapped his eyes shut and pressed his palms over them to blot out the light he knew was likely to follow his entrance into the arena. When he could feel a very hot, sticky breeze on his skin he trusted himself to peek out from underneath his fingers. It took mere moments for his eyes to adjust and he took in the sight before him.

A vast jungle rising up and on in all directions closed in around a circular pool of water divided into sections with two tribute pedestals in each sector. The Cornucopia sat in the middle with a long stretch of water between it and the tributes. The sectors were made up of a very narrow, uneven rocky walkway equal distances from the pedestals. Everyone had an equal distance to swim…or retreat backwards into the jungle, but Haymitch knew that this was not an option for him anymore than it had been the first time. He had to get his hands on a knife and a larger weapon to foil the Careers. The mouth of the Cornucopia was too far away to make out much, but he did see several boxes and crates along with the metallic glinting of weapons.

_Katniss_.

She was not close to him, but he could see her far off to his right, in the same sector as Lorn with Enobaria on the other side. Hoping that she could swim, Haymitch took stock of his own neighbors: Beetee to his left and in the next section over, Gloss. He weighed his choices: either he could stay here after the gong and wait to be rescued by someone who knew their way around water, praying that the Careers did not make for him as he stood defenseless or else he could take his chances in the water. He did not know if he could swim or not but now did not seem like a very good time to find out.

"Let the 75th Hunger Games begin and may the odds be ever in your favor."

_Argh, go to hell, you dried up prune._

"Ten…nine…"

Beetee coughed and Haymitch gave him a hand signal that told him to back off from the bloodbath. It had been secretly discussed and agreed upon that those physically able would get in close and grab what they could, try to keep the Careers from taking any weapons. Those who could not fight were only to come to the Cornucopia after the allies had secured it.

"…five…four…"

_I'm dead._

"…two…one…"

The gong sounded and Haymitch jumped from his pedestal, waving his arms in what he believed to be the proper formation for a forward stroke until he found himself moving. The water was deadly salty on his tongue and murder on his skin, but it shocked him into alertness. After paddling for a few tense moments he brushed up alongside the walkway and heaved himself onto it, flopping onto his stomach for two precious seconds to catch his breath. From his sideways perspective he could see Cashmere and Johanna grappling between pedestals, each trying to force the other under the water. Haymitch tried to regain his feet, hesitating to go to Johanna's rescue as he glanced at the Cornucopia where Katniss was joining Tilly and Blight.

_She's made it, she's fine. Now get to Johanna—_

He waited one second too long and felt a hand close around his calf, yanking him back into the water and pushing him under. He struggled for air and formed a fist, punching his attacker in the stomach. His opponent backed off temporarily but was instantly back on him without giving him much time to catch a breath. Fingers closed around his wrist, blocking off the passage to his lungs. His ears pounded, filling with water. Then the grip slackened and released so that he was able to break the surface of the water and emerge spluttering and gasping below Sickle who squatted upon the walkway with a scythe dripping with blood in hand.

The body of Haymitch's attacker floated away with the current and Sickle grabbed him by the front of his wetsuit.

"I can help put the Careers down, but I have to be with them to do it," he said urgently. "I'll get back to you when I can, but know that I'm still on your side. Now, punch me hard and pull me into the water."

Processing this new information was more than Haymitch's poor head could take, but he understood the latter part at least. He extended his arm and popped Sickle in the jaw before unbalancing him and dragging him bodily into the water. As he climbed up once again onto the walkway he could pick out Brutus going for one of the women, though he could not identify her at this distance. It could have been Avis or Wiress.

He stumbled to his feet, teetering precariously on the patchy walkway and once he was certain that he wasn't going to topple over, started to run towards the Cornucopia where Katniss waited for him. She covered him with a blessed bow and arrow she picked up from the mouth and as Haymitch came to a halt with his hands on his knees, Lash appeared in the water. Blight pulled her out and she rushed to a rack that held an array of weapons. She did not go for anything with a blade, but chose a wooden staff with sharpened ends.

"Who've we lost so far?" she asked, guarding the left.

"I saw Seeder go down," said Blight. "Gloss got her, must have broken her neck because I didn't see blood."

"The morphlings went the opposite way," Katniss added.

Haymitch quickly scanned the mouth for a weapon to his liking and chose a knife that he could easily conceal, a slightly larger one he fitted at his waist by a belt and finally, what looked like a sword and a sickle combined with the curve starting halfway up the blade. He liked the feel of it in his hand and the balance when he swung it.

"Who else?" Katniss prompted.

"There's a body floating towards us," Lash pointed out.

Haymitch ventured close to the edge of the island to turn the body of his first attacker over. He prodded it with his—for lack of a better word—sword, and the body bobbed grotesquely on its side facing away from them for a moment before Haymitch was able to see the face, drained white after being slashed by Sickle's scythe.

Gloss. Sickle had killed a Career in the first two minutes, that had to be a record.

"One Career down," he announced, somewhat pleased.

"Where's Johanna?" asked Blight, searching the water around them expectantly.

_Oh, damn it, Johanna!_ In the heat of battle and with Gloss catching him off guard, Haymitch had completely forgotten about her until now when she was nowhere to be seen.

"Brutus has someone!" Lash shouted, using her staff to point out the giant beating away at someone on the beach. Haymitch didn't want to know who it was. None of them could save the person now anyway. Lash moved towards the water but Blight held her back with a shake of his head.

"Do we hold the Cornucopia or dump the supplies in the water and head inland?" asked Tilly.

_The plan was to hold here_.

Their allies could see them now, clearly claiming the island for themselves, but suppose they moved on into the jungle? Would those who could follow come to them or come back in to the Cornucopia to choose a weapon? They couldn't chance leaving anything for the Careers.

"Dump everything," said Haymitch. "Carry what you can on your back as far as medical kits and food, but get those weapons in the water."

"Won't the Careers just fish them out?" asked Lash, finally tearing her eyes away from Brutus who was kicking his kill back into the water.

"Depends on how deep the bottom goes," said Blight.

"That's wasting a lot of time and energy for a plan that may not work," said Katniss strategically. "I say we wait a ten more minutes for anyone who is with us to join us and then, if no one shows, we leave. We can't hold the island forever with just the five of us against the six of them."

There was too much truth to that statement to ignore it and though Haymitch hated the idea of arming the Careers, he knew that they stood a better chance in numbers. The five of them distributed weapons between them that they thought might be of use to their allies, found one backpack of food apiece and a medical kit. There was no water to be had, only empty containers. There would be no need for blankets or coats even with a likely downpour of rain. The items that they could not find a current use for but did not want to leave behind for the Careers to have an advantage over them they dropped into the water as they waited for someone, anyone to come their way.

Haymitch could only see Gloss's body and Brutus's kill. The hovercrafts would not appear to lift them out until the Cornucopia was unoccupied. Gloss's death by Sickle had been the most unexpected so far, especially with how lethal Gloss had proved to be in his first games. What had Sickle meant in being able to help with the Career situation but only by joining them? Was this a blindsided act of betrayal that Haymitch just couldn't see yet? Was Sickle really planning on killing the allies off one by one with the help of the Careers and District 5? The act wouldn't surprise Haymitch; after Cobalt, nothing would.

Cobalt. Still no sight of him or Shade and Haymitch hadn't seen Cashmere or Enobaria since he reached the island. Brutus had retreated into the trees, very close to where Haymitch had told Beetee to go. If Brutus killed Beetee, that was on him.

"We've got company," said Blight presently, pointing with his axe to two figures paddling in their direction. The straight line the two were making for them suggested that they were not the Careers who would be taking care to avoid Katniss's sights by zigzagging in the water. Upon closer inspection, Haymitch could see the one on the left making no splash at all on his left side and he smiled.

"Chaff," he told them, waving to his friend in greeting.

"And that's Denno," said Lash happily. She and Haymitch waited patiently for their friends to join them and then fished them out of the water. Lash attacked Denno with a full frontal embrace which he took in slight surprise. Haymitch thumped Chaff on the back as the latter coughed up some water.

"See anyone else out there?" asked Haymitch.

"Not a soul," answered Chaff. "We were in the same sector and headed for the trees when the gong rang before running back around this side. Enobaria and Shade were close to us so we wanted to put some distance between them and us. We saw who we think was Johanna running after someone else, but we lost sight once we reached land."

Chaff picked out a one-handed sword at random and tucked it into his belt. Denno, when he had managed to extract himself from Lash, chose a length of metallic chain links and wound them around his shoulders to make them easier for carrying. Haymitch thought they would weigh him down, but when he reached out to feel the material, found the metal to be incredibly light. It actually seemed to be a harmless weapon but when the fights broke out, the cain link could prove to be deadly.

"I think that's all we're going to get," said Katniss with a doubtful glance at Denno. Haymitch knew that this was not the party she had wanted but she would have to deal with that for the time being. Besides Denno, this was actually a very capable team. "First things first and that's finding fresh water."

"We'd best head inland then," said Blight, jumping into the water without further ado.

Looking none too enthusiastic about having to go back in after only being out a few moments, Denno sat down on the island's edge and pushed himself off to follow. Haymitch was just lowering himself in when he saw them, the three Careers and District 5 emerging from the jungle in the sector almost entirely in the other direction from where they were heading. They would claim the Cornucopia as soon as Haymitch's group left. Only one thing partially reassured him and that was the sight of Sickle standing with the opposing group.

It wasn't long until they had reached the trees and as soon as they were out of sight of the Cornucopia they heard the cannons. Six times the dreaded sound went off and it was not yet noon. One of those cannons signaled Gloss's death, but the rest were from the allies, not the Careers and that was not a positive note to head out on.


	8. Chapter 8: Denser Jungle

Hours of uphill travel had revealed no water, no tributes, no nothing. They were still hiking when the sun went down, though their gait had slowed to a trudge. Haymitch wondered how the less physical were faring in this heat and if the Careers were on their trail yet even after the pains they had gone to clearing their tracks. Only when Lash's head started to drop and she appeared to be sleepwalking did Haymitch call them to a halt to ration their food and take stock of their situation. As they unpacked dried beef and distributed it evenly, the Capitol anthem broke the jungle soundtrack and they paused to glance skyward for portraits of the fallen.

Gloss from District 1. That much was already known but Haymitch's voice caught in his throat at what followed. Wiress. Brutus must have killed her when Haymitch was too far off to tell who exactly he had managed to capture in his bear-like embrace. Wherever Beetee was, Haymitch knew he must be weeping for his district partner, his fellow victor, his friend.

Avis, the female morphling. He had not expected this, especially since her policy involved immediate retreat. Unless there was already a Career—and at this point he considered District 5 to be one with the pack—hidden in the foliage waiting to ambush her as she swam to shore, she must have left an easy trail to follow once they acquired some weapons. It must have been her cannon that they had heard about two hours into their trek through the jungle. One more cannon fired after that, which could have been any of the tributes yet to be featured in the visual obituary. But her death signified that Districts 4 and 5 were still alive, a notion filled with equal amounts joy and rage.

Johanna. Whatever sadness he had been feeling at seeing Wiress in the sky, it was nothing to the shock that registered at Johanna's picture. There had to be some mistake. She was one of the ones who had shown promise to make it through to the end. In fact, besides the Careers and Katniss, he expected Johanna to outlast the others. But the nature of these Games meant that anything could happen and the unexpected had now happened. The last female victor of District 7 was gone. Blight gave a howl of despair and swung his axe into a nearby tree, not bothering to catch the rest of the anthem. Tilly and Chaff tried to subdue him but were in no hurry to get within reach of his weapon.

Haymitch allowed himself time to watch the end and left Blight temporarily to the others. As instigator of this plan, he needed to know who he could rely on and who he now had to let go. Woof and Cecelia appeared one after the other. At the sight of Woof a pang in Haymitch's stomach made him nearly heave up all the saltwater he had swallowed in the bloodbath. It was a small thing to be glad of, but he strongly suspected that Woof had been Brutus's kill from earlier. At least Woof had not died by Cobalt's hands. Cecelia was probably the last kill of Day One, either taken out by something spawned from the sick minds of the Gamemakers or hunted down by the Careers.

Finally he saw Seeder and then the artificial sky went dark, leaving them in subdued silence at the loss of their comrades—at least until Blight struck another tree a little too close to Katniss for Haymitch's liking. Before now nothing had led any of them to believe that District 7 had strong bonds between its victors, but Blight's reaction to Johanna's death suggested that the two had shared more than just required familiarity. Haymitch could understand Blight's desolation, but at the moment when silence was key, it had to be contained. He decided it was time to intervene. He tackled Blight when the latter's back was turned mid-swing and held him down, pressing a hand over his mouth.

"Shh," he said in the kindest and yet most urgent way he could. He glanced at Denno and Tilly for assistance, as they were nearest.

Tilly knelt at Blight's head and ran her fingers through his hair, speaking softly to him as he whimpered behind Haymitch's hand. "She's okay now. Snow can't hurt her anymore." She glanced at Haymitch, both of them wondering if the hidden microphones picked up her whispered word of defiance. Blight's eyelids fluttered and began to droop and in another minute or so of Tilly's comforting gesture, he had fallen asleep in the restrained position. Haymitch removed his hand and pulled his damp hair out of his eyes.

"He'll need water when he wakes up. We all will. One of you stand watch, the rest try to get some sleep. I'm going to go scouting for water." He stood up to leave but Katniss beat him to it.

"Out of everyone here, Haymitch, you're probably least qualified to go searching for water. You wouldn't know where to look or what to look for. You take first watch and I'll go."

"Not happening in this arena, sweetheart."

"Okay, fine, I'd much rather sit here and die of dehydration anyway like I almost did the last time I was in this situation."

"You two bicker like an old married couple," said Chaff. "_I'll_ go, if it would only stop you two going at it all night. If anything happens, just holler."

"Not the wisest decision when we're trying to keep as quiet as possible," said Lash under her breath so that Chaff couldn't hear.

"You be careful," Haymitch told his friend. "I won't worry about you, but remember that everyone who wants to kill you has one more hand than you, so don't stand and fight unless you don't have a choice. Run the hell out of there if you get into trouble."

"Run, at my age?" Chaff laughed and strode off into the jungle, making no noise but leaving Haymitch feeling very uncertain. Tilly and Lash curled up back to back with their weapons close at hand while Denno settled in against a tree trunk, concealed to anyone approaching from the direction of the Cornucopia. Only Katniss seemed unwilling to go to sleep, staring skyward most likely in deep thought about Peeta and her family back home.

How wonderful must it be to know that there are people who genuinely care if you make it out alive? Wait, wonderful—he meant awful. The last time he slept underneath an artificial sky his loved ones waited and prayed for him to return. Inside of two weeks later they were gone. He never had to worry about something happening to them again and could retreat into his inebriated existence until Katniss and Peeta came along. This time only Peeta remained on the outside and the boy was smart enough to not get mixed up in the wrong sort of politics, anything that might anger Snow, should the initial plan fail. And he had no idea of what transpired around him, so the Capital would get nothing from him if they resorted to torture.

_Stop that_, he told himself firmly. No one would harm Peeta if they stuck to the rules on camera here in the arena.

For hours he ran over the plan countless times in his head, hoping he had done everything right. By the time he realized that he was supposed to have awoken Lash for second watch he could recite the entire thing in less than a minute flat. So immersed was he in his thoughts that at the sound rustling undergrowth he was far too late in drawing his sword. It was only Chaff, though, beaming as he returned drenched in sweat.

"Jumpy, aren't you?" he teased. "Get everyone up; I've found a freshwater stream, fast flowing and clear, but it's quite a walk."

Haymitch roused the others without question, purposefully leaving Blight last as he was still tentative to the latter's feelings towards them after they had ganged up to put him down. Denno and Tilly shook him awake before Haymitch could and spoke in hushed tones to him so that by the time he was fully awake he seemed to be in control of his emotions. He and Katniss made up the middle of the group as they trekked after Chaff with Lash bringing up the rear. Under cover of darkness they hiked through the dense jungle, panting with exertion. The sun was already on the rise when Chaff brought them to a halt before a wonderfully cool stream running downhill towards the beach. They all dropped to their knees, cupping the water and drinking their fill before splashing it over their overheated bodies.

Then they heard the roar. Almost as if they had planned it they drew together, facing outward in all directions.

"What in the _hell_ was that?" asked Blight.

"Maybe a mutt, definitely something Game-made," said Denno. "I don't know of any animal that can make that sound."

"It's getting louder," said Lash fearfully.

Haymitch kept his eyes on the jungle, but found Katniss's arm with his free hand. "Stay close to me," he said. Not ten seconds later it appeared, a monstrous gargantuan creature with a set of jaws the size of Haymitch's torso. It did not resemble any animal Haymitch had ever seen or heard of and he knew that none of their weapons would be able to take it down, even with combined effort. There was only one thing for it now.

"Run!" Chaff shouted.

Katniss fired off an arrow, hitting the Beast's left eye dead on, but that only enraged it. Partially blinded, it charged for them and they all took off downhill, zigzagging while trying to keep each other in sight. Every couple hundred yards Haymitch would tally them up until he noticed one was missing. He chanced a look back over his shoulder and counted again. Blight was gone. Had the Beast gotten him or had he broken off from the rest of them, deserted even? Another two hundred yards and now Lash and Denno were missing. Chaff was in the lead, surprising for a man of his build and with only one hand to guide him. Katniss and Tilly were keeping even strides with each other to Haymitch's right but quickly leaving him behind.

He tried to holler to make them slow up for him when his foot became ensnared in a mess of tree roots and he toppled head over heels, sliding down what felt like a jungle-made mud slide until he landed face down in the muck and heard the Beast tramping past him, oblivious to his presence. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, he sat up, finding that his sword was still in hand and completely covered in mud, much like the rest of him. Here and there the grey of his suit showed, but for someone or something—like the Beast—glancing casually over in his direction without lingering, he was invisible.

_Katniss_. He rose to his feet, preparing to give chase, when something grabbed his arm and he panicked. His free hand fumbled for the knife at his belt when a body materialized out of the tree beside him and two dulled green eyes stared fearfully at him.

Haymitch had seen this kind of camouflage from Peeta before, but it still stunned him to see Lorn emerge from the trunk as if he was a strip of bark. The morphling pointed uphill and shook his head. He made Haymitch kneel and started plastering on more mud and leaves to the patches of suit or skin that were not yet covered up. He used some water from a small puddle to dampen Haymitch's hair and then applied another coat of mud to it so that the blonde was completely hidden. When he had finished he pushed Haymitch against the tree and motioned that he stay silent.

What was going on? The Beast had already gone in pursuit of Katniss and the others towards the beach, so what could there possibly be to hide from—?

"Keep quiet or you'll bring it around again, you idiot!"

That was Brutus's voice, speaking to someone unseen and unknown. Lorn held his breath and Haymitch tried to slow his as the Career pack passed into sight, creeping along in the dawn light looking thoroughly battered after assumingly having escaped the Beast. Brutus was leading, Cashmere and Enobaria guarded the group's tail and the other three made up the middle. They all had acquired weapons which did not make Haymitch feel any better about his group's decision to abandon the Cornucopia.

"Wait," said Cashmere suddenly, bringing the Careers to a halt as her eyes settled on something very close to Haymitch and Lorn's hideout. If she focused hard enough she would be able to pick out human shapes in the bark and then, with only a morphling to guard his back, Haymitch would be fish bait. His eyes were squinted, barely open to disguise their telltale color, but Cashmere was getting closer and closer to discovering them and Haymitch wanted his eyes full adjusted if he had to make a run for it.

But Lorn had other ideas. He threw himself out of his hiding place, chucking a rock at Cashmere and darting up the slope but Brutus's spear pierced him through the calf so that his other one gave out and he fell, hitting the ground hard on his side with the Career pack closing in on him. Haynitch dared not move.

Enobaria planted her foot on Lorn's chest, pushing him down as Brutus twisted his spear in the morphling's leg. A gargled sound escaped Lorn's throat, but he was incapable of saying anything at the hands of his torturers. Sickle stood guard, facing away from the sight and to his credit, Haymitch saw that he had a grimace to show his displeasure with the treatment happening behind him.

"Might've gone the whole Games without ever finding him," commented Cobalt. "Once a camouflage artist gets their hands on supplies, it's all about hide-and-seek."

"Think he knows where the others are?" asked Shade.

"If he does, he's not telling—not that he can anyway," Enobaria scoffed. "He and the other haven't been able to talk for years. Kill him."

Lorn wasn't even attempting to fight back or wriggle away. Ever since submitting himself to morphling, he had been waiting for this. Cashmere gripped a dagger and took a knee near Lorn's head, pulling his head back with his hair. Haymitch clapped his eyes shut and only when he heard Brutus extracting his spear from flesh did he feel it safe to open them. A cannon sounded.

"That was the hard part," said Enobaria with a smirk. "The others should be easy to find. Come on, let's go before—"

The same roar that plagued Haymitch's group sent the Career pack running down the slope as a second Beast just as gruesome and just as large as the other tore after them. Haymitch cast a sorrowful glance at Lorn's body and then made the executive decision to follow. They had not gone far when Haymitch saw Enobaria positively screaming as the Beast chomped down not two feet from her ankles. What happened next was so quick, so smoothly planned that Haymitch almost missed it. Enobaria swept Cashmere's legs out from under her with sword and Cashmere went down. The Beast stopped above the District 1 female and began feasting as Enobaria fled, not even bothering to look back.

Cashmere let out a sound like some tortured creature and Haymitch slowed up, flattening himself against another tree in case the Beast did not find her a sufficient enough meal. The violence happened out of his eyesight, but the blood and flesh staining the Beast's fangs was already more than he wanted to see. Moments later it darted away into the cover of denser trees and once he was sure that the Beast had gone, Haymitch crept out from his tree to where he had seen Cashmere fall. He smelled her before he saw her but when he did see her, she was convulsing from multiple wounds to her body, giant bits of skin and bone torn off and bitten away from the mauling. Most of her right arm was gone along with a fraction of her face.

Haymitch stood over her and their eyes met, though he was almost certain that she could not comprehend his presence. She was already too far gone and sure enough, the cannon signifying her death alerted the entire arena less than a minute later.

The way she had been needlessly tripped so that Enobaria could gain one step ahead and outrun the Beast made Haymitch's insides burn with fury. Yes, Cashmere had been the one to make Lorn flee their hiding place and she delivered the final blow, but she had not deserved to go like this. If Haymitch could show the other Careers that already their alliance was breaking by exposing Enobaria and thus turning them all on each other, perhaps he could give Katniss a better chance since getting back to her seemed impossible at this point.

He took hold of Cashmere's remaining arm and started dragging her towards the beach.


	9. Chapter 9: Hidden Beasts

The welcoming committee on the beach consisted of three different lethal weapons pointed at his face and vitals as he staggered into sight dragging what remained of Cashmere's body behind him. Those who were unarmed had grabbed sticks or rocks.

"Who is that?" asked Shade.

"Doesn't matter, kill him," said Sickle.

Haymitch thought they were all being pretty daft in not knowing it was him until he remembered that he was caked in mud and would look in no way recognizable to them. Clawing at his face with his fingernails, he tried to reveal his eyes and other distinguishable features but also called out to them just to avoid getting a spear in the chest.

"It's Haymitch."

It was amazing, the effect his name had on the Careers as instant debate broke out on whether or not they should keep him alive. It came as no surprise that Enobaria was looking daggers at him, especially since he still clung tightly to Cashmere's corpse. Haymitch figured he had about ten seconds tops before the interrogation began and he had to make it convincing otherwise…he didn't want to think about otherwise.

"Where's The Girl on Fire?" questioned Enobaria.

"Haven't seen her since the anthem," Haymitch invented. "We got separated and that monster that chased you lot down tried to take a bite out of my ass. I've been trying to move out of the jungle bit by bit, caked in mud and who-knows-what-else. You all ran right by me when that thing came trampling after you and I saw it take Cashmere down. One less tribute to face off against, but still, I didn't want to chance leaving her there for the hovercrafts because there might not be anything left by then."

"Very kind of you," said Sickle, sounding convincingly suspicious. "Who else was with you when you got separated?"

Deciding that lying here would get him into trouble if the Careers had seen the other tributes wandering around, Haymitch told the flat out truth, omitting nothing.

"That's an awfully big alliance you had formed there," said Brutus.

"No more than yours if you count the now extinct District 1," Haymitch shot back.

"Let him come with us," said Shade. "And if he tries to double-cross us, we're more than enough for him to handle. But he won't because he's smarter than that and he's going to be a good boy, isn't that right, Haymitch?"

Being downgraded to the age of a child was not only insulting but infuriating, especially coming from someone like Shade who was only a little older than Katniss and though the Hunger Games made child victors into early adults due to the trials and tribulations, he still very much saw her as a youth. But Shade acknowledged what no one else did and that was that Haymitch—not to sound too prideful—was indeed smart. Very smart. And had already started forming scenarios in his head, ones that might work and ones that definitely would if he could play the Careers right. It helped that he also had a man on the inside, if only he could get a message to Sickle without the Careers picking up on him.

"We should clear out so the hovercraft can pick her up," said Cobalt, motioning at Cashmere's body next to Haymitch in the sand.

"And you should get cleaned off," Brutus added. "You look like you've been rolling around in shit for three days." He led the troupe to one of the rock walkways leading to the Cornucopia since some of them had lost their weapons in the flight from the jungle. Deciding that he would wash up once they reached the island, Haymitch fell into line behind Enobaria, surprised that none of them thought to guard him in the middle since they were obviously so distrusting of him. In fact, he saw this as a downright stupid and careless move. If it had been any of them other than Sickle who sought to team up with _his_ group, he'd have the loner covered on all sides possible with drawn weapons. He could have laughed at the idiocy of this opposing group.

But instead he watched Enobaria shove Shade sideways so that the latter toppled sideways and landed with a tremendous splash for someone of her size in the water. The sound aroused the others who lined up side by side, inquiring as to what had happened while Enobaria innocently claimed that Shade must have lost her balance. Cobalt was one of those who had lost his weapon in the jungle and so he had nothing hindering him as he knelt on the narrow walkway, leaning towards the spot where Shade had disappeared. Within seconds she surfaced and there was panic on her face.

"There's something down there, get me out!" she cried, reaching for Cobalt.

Cobalt grabbed her forearms but the wetsuit was slick against his bare skin and she slid back into the water, now kicking and waving her arms in sheer desperation, sobbing in fear.

"Coby, get me out, please!"

"I'm trying, stay still!" Cobalt shouted.

Shade's body gave a violent jerk downwards and back as if something below her had grabbed her and was attempting to drag her under. Cobalt extended his arm to its full length and grasped her fingers. He managed to pull her in closer by about half a foot when whatever lurked beneath the once-calm waters took a firmer hold on her and she became the rope in a cruel, sick game of tug of war. Her screams jostled Haymitch's brain, forcefully bringing him back into his first Games, hearing Maysilee shriek as the birds set upon her and ripped her open.

"_Someone help me, damn it!"_ he roared.

Brutus and Enobaria remained passively on the sidelines, though for entirely different reasons. He was eyeing Haymitch distrustfully and she looked like she was enjoying the show. Sickle, on the other hand, was attempting to beat whatever held Shade with his scythe, though to no avail.

"Haymitch!"

It was the sound of Cobalt calling to him, pleading that brought him slamming back into reality. He owed Cobalt nothing, especially after having the bastard slide the proverbial knife between his ribs, but Shade, so reminiscent of Katniss, had not earned his negligence.

He took a knee beside Cobalt, fingertips inches away from Cobalt and Shade's joined hands and saw the water around her start to pool out red. At that point he knew she was beyond help. Biting his lip, Haymitch seized Cobalt's wrist and started to pry his fingers out of Shade's. Both tributes of District 5 knew what he was doing, but neither could react. She was too far gone and his hands were already occupied so that there was no way to throw Haymitch off.

Turning to look at Sickle, Haymitch said levelly, "Help—me."

Together, the two of them wrenched Cobalt's hands free and Shade went under with a final gurgling scream. There was absolute silence around them in the aftermath. Flecks of watered-down blood ran down Cobalt's face which was a complete sculpted figure of shock. A cannon sounded. Then, because the Gamemakers could not settle with only a stunned reaction and because the audience would want to see what the monster below had done to her, Shade surfaced, face down. Her body was bitten in half just above the navel and blood sullied the water as it spread out in a semicircle from where her body ended.

Feeling for the second time in two days as if he was going to vomit everything he had eaten, Haymitch turned away, but it helped in the reaction time it took to grab Cobalt as he attempted to dive into the water after Shade.

"_No_!" Cobalt wailed, hands clawing at the water as Shade's body drifted out of reach. Sickle took firm hold of Cobalt's waist and pressed his weight against him to keep him down. Haymitch had his fingers on the pressure points in Cobalt's neck just in case, but he dared not try anything else for fear of bringing the water demon back up to the surface if one of them fell in.

Brutus suddenly took a fistful of Haymitch's hair and dragged him into an upright position by neck and head so that his feet almost left the ground. Haymitch still had his weapons on hand, but he let them be as he blinked up into the giant male tribute's livid face. Why livid, though? What was Shade, a young female tribute from a non-Career district to someone like Brutus?

"Did you push her in?" he demanded, yanking so hard on Haymitch's head that several of his muddy hairs quite painfully ripped free from his scalp.

"How could I have pushed her if she was two people in front of me?" Haymitch choked, struggling to find breath.

"Are you saying Enobaria did it?" Brutus snorted, shaking Haymitch harshly but releasing his throat.

_Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying_. "No, Enobaria said she fell and that's what I saw. But I was nowhere close enough to even touch her on this walkway. Take it or leave it."

"How about I leave you floating face-down in the water like her?" Brutus forced Haymitch's head sideways to see Shade nearing the beach where the hovercraft would recover her and Cashmere whose body still lay on the sand where Haymitch had left it.

"That's your choice, but now that you're one more tribute down, you could use an extra ally and one who knows Katniss better than anyone else here. She'll be the one to kill and without me, good luck finding her, especially with all the remaining opposing tributes looking out for her."

There was too much truth in that statement for Brutus to ignore it and Haymitch knew he had won, sealed any doubts and ideas Brutus had had for killing him off. Enobaria narrowed her large golden-brown eyes and showed her teeth, making her look all the more animalistic, but the warning she gave Haymitch went unnoticed by the group's leader. Sickle still had a very firm hold on Cobalt's midsection, though now out of caution than necessity since Cobalt had gone limp with grief.

Much like Blight and Johanna, the relationship Cobalt must have had with Shade outside of the arena, back home in their own district, must have been more than Haymitch had ever suspected. How odd that brothers and sisters, such good friends, maybe even lovers in some cases, were both reaped for the Quarter Quell. If Haymitch didn't know any better, he would have said the entire thing was rigged, but that wouldn't surprise him in the least.

He pulled Cobalt to his feet and helped steady him and was met with the nasty shock of seeing blood running out of Cobalt's mouth and both of his nostrils. A cut below his left eye was already giving way to a bruise that began to form there.

"What the-?"

"Apparently desire for a blackout far outweighs the fear of pain," said Sickle quietly. It took Haymitch a moment to register what he had just said, but then he realized that Cobalt would have taken the complete exposure and helplessness of being knocked out rather than live through the waking moments of Shade's death.

Brutus made them start moving once again towards the Cornucopia, but Cobalt would not budge as Haymitch tried to get him to walk.

"You broke my hold," he said in hardly more than a whisper.

"Your Games involved giant creatures ripping tributes in half—you knew that there was no saving her at that point," said Haymitch.

"So you tried to save me instead?"

"Well, I thought about pushing you in, but that wouldn't have gotten me anywhere with the Careers, so yes, I opted to save you instead. And I know I'm going to regret it, _Coby_."

Cobalt's already pale face went stark white and under his few freckles Haymitch could see his skin actually turning green with sick fear. "Don't you dare—that's not—you can't," he spluttered.

"Whatever you two had outside of the arena doesn't mean yellow piss to me. But if you keep this up, stumbling around trying to put yourself out of it to avoid thinking about her, the rest of them will make your passing much more painful. Don't give them a weapon to use against you."

"Did you push her?" Cobalt asked, stepping in close to Haymitch so that the two were less than a foot apart. Cobalt's hands were empty and Haymitch was stronger, but he still didn't like his chances on this narrow ledge with something unknown below them against the unexpected actions of a grief-stricken man.

"Like I told Brutus, there was someone else in front of me and behind Shade."

_Pick up the hint, you clueless moron_.

"What?" said Cobalt, nonplussed.

Saying it slowly this time so that Cobalt would be sure to not miss anything, Haymitch said, "There was someone else between us."

He saw it, the registry in Cobalt's eyes, but the latter's expression hardened and with the speed that made him famous in his Games, he snatched out and grabbed Haymitch's wrist in a painful grip.

"Are you lying to me to throw me off of your scent?"

Haymitch couldn't take it. He struck Cobalt hard across the face but kept him from falling into the water. "Now you listen here, you little shit. I'm not a Career, so my goal isn't to win with glory, but I'm not above playing on my own terms. I'll kill anyone in self-defense who makes a go at me, but I won't pick off members of my own team just to better my odds. I knew Shade, considered her to be something between a friend and an acquaintance, and I would never do that to her, much less anyone else in this arena because in case you hadn't noticed, I'm one of the _good_ guys."

Cobalt rubbed his cheek where Haymitch had hit him, but said nothing. "So why _did_ you save me? No one else would have minded if I'd have gone in too."

"Because after what you said to me in training, after tossing me out like soiled rags along with everyone else who was counting on you, I wasn't about to let you off that easy. No, I want you to last out here so that when it's down to a select few of us, you'll see what the consequences are for what you've chosen."

And with that, Haymitch left Cobalt standing in confusion to join what remained of the Career pack.


	10. Chapter 10: Weeding Out a Traitor

` Even without the image of Shade's severed body and Cashmere's mangled one, night came about on a sour note for Haymitch. He had fooled Brutus, maybe even Cobalt for the moment, but Enobaria was in no way buying his ruse and she confronted him on it as soon as it was time to divide forces to look for water. Brutus went off on his own while Sickle and Cobalt took a diagonally upward route, leaving Haymitch to team up with his least favorite person in the arena. As soon as the two of them were out of sight and sound of the others Enobaria drew her sword on him but he stepped nimbly out of reach and went only for his knife, a much less threatening weapon to have in this situation and one that spoke of defense rather than threat.

"Alright, Abernathy, what are you playing at?" she hissed.

"I'm playing the same game you are, Enobaria, the Hunger Games."

"Oh, are you? I find that hard to believe after your little stint on the walkway and the fact that you dragged Cashmere out of the jungle out of the goodness of your heart."

"I did what any other human would do."

The slander to her morals angered her, that much was clear, but Haymitch could only imagine how difficult a time Peeta must be having trying to find sponsors for him when he was not making his intentions apparent by going against everyone. He had supposedly abandoned Katniss and the others, exposing them to the Career group, recovered Cashmere, saved Cobalt and threatened him in one go, and now he was being confronted by Enobaria.

_Keep them guessing._

"Not any other human, Abernathy," said Enobaria, flicking her tongue out between her fangs. "Only those who are craven enough to use dead bodies as shields."

Knowing that he was pressing his luck against her, that she outmatched him, Haymitch still gave a curt reply of, "I wonder if it's considered more cowardly to use a dead body as a shield than to have been the one to slay the body while it lived to accomplish one's own ends?"

It was very lucky then, or perhaps not, that at that moment Brutus rejoined them, hauling a very haggard and bruised-looking Chaff by the scruff of his neck as a broken leg trailed uselessly behind him. Haymitch could not betray any emotion here, not now, not with Enobaria moments away from slaying him should he say one more unfavorable thing.

"Sneaky son of a bitch nearly had me, but there's only so much you can do with one hand," said Brutus to which Enobaria laughed appreciatively at Chaff's expense.

_If he had two hands your cannon would have already fired, Brutus._

Chaff made no motion to acknowledge Haymitch, for which he was grateful, but they both knew that there was only one way this would end.

"Where are the other four?" asked Enobaria. "District 10, Blight, and Katniss, where are they?"

Chaff said nothing, just as Lorn had and fearing that he would have to watch another ally die by Career hand in one day, Haymitch started downhill at an angle, heading back to their camp.

"Haymitch, where do you think you're off to? Don't you want to see this?"

_Careful now, careful._

"In all honesty, Brutus, I've personally had enough for one day, especially after that business with Cashmere and Shade. I don't quite have the stomach for this sort of thing like you two do, but I'd give him a clean death if I were you. Your sponsors may appreciate that."

His own sponsors, if they supported Chaff as well, would be withdrawing any gifts to him as he walked away from Chaff, fighting to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. Moments after he was out of sight of District 2 he heard the cannon and thanked the higher being that the Careers had heeded his advice and not played with their food before killing it. The cannon brought Haymitch to the decision that he would say a final goodbye to Chaff and not for the support of sponsors. Chaff was his last true friend, the one he had never doubted and Haymitch had let him die to save face—to save Katniss.

He doubled back, taking a rounded route so that he would not cross paths with the Careers, and waited as long as he dared before making his way back to the spot where Chaff had been slain. The hovercraft had not yet come and so Haymitch made his way over to where Chaff lay, pierced by Enobaria's sword. Of course it had been Enobaria, just to spite Haymitch. Now the Careers were two for two in killing his allies. He washed some of the mud from Chaff's face with a bit of water from a nearby puddle and covered the gaping hole in his chest with one of the giant leaves hanging from the trees overhead.

What could he say now, what could he do to let Chaff's district know that Haymitch respected and cared for their victor to the end? Nothing. He could do nothing. He grasped Chaff's clammy hand, squeezed it, and laid it across his chest to join the other.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and left without another word.

Back at camp, the others had regrouped and there was an all-knowing look in Enobaria's eyes. Cobalt was still mostly dead to the world around him as he sat hunched over with his head almost between his legs. Sickle stood watch and only briefly looked Haymitch's way when he returned. Brutus broke up a slab of some sort of hardened meat and vegetable mixture from his pack and shoved it into his mouth hungrily. Sifting though his own meager supplies, Haymitch took a small handful of dried fruit and began to nibble on bits of it.

"I thought you headed back to camp before us, yet you returned after us," said Brutus through a mouthful of the slab mixture.

"Stopped for a leak," said Haymitch dismissively.

"A long leak," said Enobaria.

"Do you want details on my bladder and bowel schedules?" he snapped back.

"No, I want you to—"

The anthem cut her off and Haymitch took the opportunity to roll over onto his side and try not to gag on his own stench since they had found no fresh water and he had been highly unwilling to bathe in the water surrounding the Cornucopia after seeing the monster below take Shade. He was still mostly covered in mud and his hair had matted together with the caked-on filth of the jungle.

The others looked skyward to watch out of habit more than necessity because they all knew who had died today. Not one cannon sounded that was not in direct relation to the Careers. Had Haymitch still been with Katniss, he would be wondering who had died and how. It was surprising how the mystery was so easily solved when one ran with the Career pack. After the sky had gone dark again, Brutus called for first watch volunteers and Haymitch put his name in immediately. As expected, Enobaria offered to stay up with him.

"Wake me up for second shift," said Sickle, stretching out for a moment before curling up with his scythe held in close like a firstborn child. Cobalt went into the fetal position on a bed of moss and stared off into space.

And so they sat, visible to each other, but still somewhat facing outward, though if any of the others approached them, Haymitch would pretend to not see them. The others. How had Chaff gotten himself captured and what made him separate from the group? Was it part of the greater plan to protect Katniss, or had he somehow realized Haymitch's intentions and tried to find him? The possibilities were endless, the questions left unanswered. He was starting to see a pattern forming here where he did not interfere in the death of his fellow tributes, but at the time, not because he was thinking of his ultimate goal. His instincts begged him to flee or to do whatever it took to stay alive when faced with a threat. Katniss had not even crossed his mind as he let Lorn, Shade, and Chaff die. It was all selfish.

_Peeta would have done something else, something that would have earned him a little grey parachute by now. But besides a bit of water at the moment, I don't _need_ anything. Maybe Peeta's having the sponsors withhold any contributions for something that he knows or suspects is coming. Maybe—_

"It's raining," said Enobaria.

Haymitch tried to look as if he had not been about to doze and cast his eyes up to the welcoming rainclouds gathering overhead. First thought told him to fashion a rain catch for the water, but as he glanced around at the supplies available to him, a drop landed on his knuckle. The skin there was one of the few bits washed clean of jungle muck due to Shade's panicked splashing in the water earlier. He raised his hand to eye level with the intention of licking the water droplet off, but even in the darkness, he sensed that something was wrong. The air did not have that sweet, damp smell, that freshness of a cleanse. A heavy, metallic smell lingered thick in the humidity. He licked the droplet off of his knuckle.

_Blood._

"Get them up," he told Enobaria. "It's blood, get them up!"

He didn't know why, especially since it would do absolutely nothing against the rain, but Haymitch drew his sword as he went to arouse the others and Enobaria matched blades with him.

"No, you blockhead, I'm trying to help. Get that sword away from my face!"

"What're you yelling at now?" asked Brutus, sitting up groggily and holding his head.

"The skies are dousing us in the blood of dead tributes to enhance our morality, _why do you think I'm yelling?_ Get your asses up and run, you idiots!"

"It's just blood; it can't hurt us," said Enobaria in a would-be calm voice but even as she said it the rain began to thicken and fall harder.

"You were saying?" Haymitch spat sideways to clean his mouth out, but more blood fell onto his exposed lips.

"Yeah, that's enough for me," said Sickle, and he took off left, hauling Cobalt to his feet to accompany him. Brutus prodded Enobaria into motion with the butt of his spear and then the two of them left Haymitch, ditching him out of complete disgust for this new horror. Wondering if Enobaria would try to inconspicuously get rid of Sickle or Cobalt when Brutus was looking the other way, Haymitch took off running. He had to expose her in the act this time because there were less and less pawns between the two of them the further into the Games they got.

The rain blinded them, coating their vision in red. Haymitch breathed through his nose, inhaling the awful scent, but he had no choice unless he wanted to swallow blood by the mouthful by keeping it open. Sickle and Brutus, despite their size, were the fastest runners and easily outstripped them so that they were lost in the scarlet darkness. Haymitch realized the danger of being unable to see Enobaria at this point and kept his sword at the ready. His ankle snagged on something slippery and he hit the jungle floor on his face, tasting the hot red liquid on the tip of his tongue. Blinking rapidly, he raised his head to find that a tree with leaves large and thick enough to blot out the downpour stood above him. Not ten feet away Enobaria was swiping her sword at Cobalt who was only barely managing to dodge with that vacant look in his eyes.

At the moment, Haymitch could not say which one he wanted to triumph over the other and so he remained still, waiting. Enobaria sliced open a cut along Cobalt's hip and he cried out but blocked what would have been the mortal blow with the baton he had picked up at the Cornucopia. She swung the hilt of her sword overhead and clubbed him across the temple so that his legs gave out on him and he fell, stunned.

"Shame your whore girlfriend didn't put up the same fight," said Enobaria and stabbed. Only, Cobalt had moved. His eyes came back to life at the insult to Shade and he struck Enobaria in the knee, caving in her kneecap so that it snapped backward and she shrieked in agony. He was on her in seconds, holding her down with one hand and yanking her head back by her hair so that the blood rain poured down relentlessly on her face.

Haymitch couldn't help himself and made a face. Waterboarding in and of itself was a horrible form of torture, but add in blood to that and it was downright sick. Even with it being Enobaria who was fully deserving of her impending fate, this was no way to die.

"Scream like she did," said Cobalt, his voice loud enough to carry to Haymitch, but oddly muted. "Call to Brutus and see if he saves you!"

Enobaria was choking, her fingers scrabbling uselessly at Cobalt's collar and her feet hammering on the ground.

"She deserved better and you didn't even give her a chance, you little bitch! See if anyone mourns for you, damn you!"

Her resistance lessened as her lungs filled with blood and she began to drown in a shower of red. This time, however, Haymitch could not tear his eyes away, though he did not hold them on her. He watched Cobalt's eyes, as electric blue as the color for which he was named and knew that something inside of his former ally had snapped.

The cannon went off and Cobalt released Enobaria whose face was grotesquely painted in mud and blood, much like Haymitch's at this point. Cobalt gathered up his baton where he had dropped it and then, as if sensing him, spun around to face Haymitch who had just regained his feet. Uncertainty lay between them. Would one attack the other or would they keep their temporary, fake alliance for the sake of weeding out who they intended?

"You saw?" Cobalt asked.

Haymitch nodded.

"You'd have done the same thing if she had killed Katniss—"

"I'm not complaining, don't defend yourself. She killed one of her own and Shade. She was a bigger threat to me than Brutus. I won't thank you for killing her, but it does make things easier for me."

Cobalt hesitated at Haymitch's reaction, which could not have been what he was expecting. "She-she killed Shade," he said. "I had to—I _had_ to."

"Let's try to find the giants," Haymitch suggested. He was willing to pretend that this had never happened providing that Cobalt dropped it right here and now.

"Yeah…right."


End file.
